


The Snake and the Lady

by hannah1607



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, BAMF Sigyn, F/M, First Meetings, Hints at Game of Thrones, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sigyn Does What She Wants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah1607/pseuds/hannah1607
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots, detailing Sigyn and Loki's arranged marriage and their growing relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate Thor: The Dark World Rises! Which I am going to see next week, so hush, no spoilers please :) Of course, like any sane fangirl (not that Thor fangirls are insane, but you know...) I love Loki. So this fanfic is focused on his relationship with Sigyn (which is different from the original comic books - in terms of twistedness and characterisation).
> 
> For some reason, I've had a sort of Sansa-like Sigyn in my head. Don't know why, I just instinctively imagined her as having red hair. While I was writing I started realising Sigyn shares a sort of similar personality with Sansa, so here and there, there are a few little nods to it (but not enough for GoT AU). There is some deviation from Thor (movie) and later on the Avengers, but nothing major (it's just told from Sigyn's perspective, so it's a different view on things anyway). Hope you all enjoy.

Mother had given me a new dress; I stood on the stool for hours while the tailor and my maids fixed the fabric around me. The silver-green suited the red tones of my hair and my pale skin, I saw my sisters, Avedis and Gefion, looking enviably at me when I had a silver belt wrapped around my hips, the ivy leaves linking and twining around my small waist. Mother then let me down and sat me next to a mirror, picking up my brush and going through my hair.

“You are a woman grown now and your father expects you to make a good impression, this is a great opportunity for our family.”

“And me.” I smiled, my mother gave a tense smile. The brush tugged through a tight knot and I hissed slightly in pain.

“Loyalty to your family comes first, Sigyn, remember that. You were born of our blood, marriage is only a bond made by two different bloods. Until you have a child, it is merely a rope bound between two hands.”

I nodded and recited the words my tutor taught me, “I will make you and father proud, and I will give Loki many sons.”

My mother kissed the top of my head, “You already make me proud.”

* * *

My father knocks impatiently on the door and calls through the heavy wood, “Come, what more is there to be done? Anyone would think you were slaughtering a bull.”

Avedis skips to the door and opens it, she instantly puts her hand in father’s and pulls him into the room. “It isn’t fair that Sigyn gets a new dress and I…”

“Hush Avedis.” Father says and Avedis instantly falls quiet, we all know that tone of voice too well to object. Father looks at me as I get up and spread my arms a little so he can see the full effect of the gown, the graceful cut of fabric on my shoulders and neckline, the silver belt. He nods thoughtfully.

“His colours, good.” My mother goes to stand by his side and looks appraisingly at me.

“Her hips and breasts are rather small.” My father says and I feel my face flush with colour.

“She is only thirteen, my love. They are not to be married for another two years.”

“It will do, for now.” My father mutters, casting a dark look at me as though I could control how and when I grew.

Father spoke again, “Tighten the belt?”

“It is already knotted rather tightly.” My mother protested, but she moved over to me and tightened the clasp at the back, so the cold metal dug into the silk of my gown, before father could say anything else. He shrugged once she had finished.

“Better.” Father took my mother’s arm and I dutifully followed him with my sisters behind me.

* * *

“It is good to see you, old friend.” Odin clasped father by his arm and my father smiled.

“And you, your grace.”

“Enough of that, we are in private company here. Let us dine together as two families should. Not a King and his advisor. But as friends.” Odin kissed my mother’s cheek and then spied me, standing behind my parents. I was trying to obey the lesson of keeping my eyes lowered, but every now and then I glanced up curiously. I had tried to see my betrothed, but I had only caught glimpses of him and could not see over Odin King and Frigga. He smiled at me. The king was such a great man, though I felt a little nervous by the eye patch over his right eye and the sharpness of his other. His mouth seemed grim and I felt if my father had not been present he would not have smiled.

“So this is she.” My parents drew back a little and I gave a low curtsey to the King and Queen. The Queen smiled sweetly at me, though Odin seemed to be taking in my appearance as much as my father. He finally nodded, turned back and called down the steps.

“Thor, come greet your sister. Loki, come greet your betrothed.”

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and bit my lip nervously. I heard the scuffle of footsteps mounting up the pale sandstone steps, two sets of footfall climbing up the stairs, till they came into view. I raised my gaze and tried not to look back down to my feet. Everyone had heard of Thor, a great warrior amongst immortal men, and I’d heard my handmaidens whispering about how handsome and charming he was. Their talk growing more scandalous and making me blush. He was far taller than I was and broader across his shoulders, but despite his strength and build he smiled kindly at me, raising my hands to his lips.

“I am glad to have met you sister.”

“And you, sir.” I stammered, trying to ignore Gefion’s giggle at my flustered face.

“Loki.” Odin growled and I turned my attention to my betrothed. Where Thor was light haired and had great strength within his arms and shoulders, eyes warm and sky blue; Loki was slighter and leaner built, his hair was dark and his grey eyes clear cut and intelligent. He tilted his head slightly to one side, but it did not feel as though he was judging my outward appearance as the King and father had done. He was judging my spirit. I didn’t know what to make of him, I didn’t feel frightened as I had when I’d spoken with his father, but I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him. I bobbed down in another curtsey.

“Sir, I am glad to have met you at last.”

A sharp smile came to his lips, as though he knew a joke and I was not aware of it, “And I am glad to meet you, Lady Sigyn.”

He made no attempt to flatter me or kiss my hand. In fact, once the introductions were complete – my father and Odin speaking on the last war they had fought, my mother talking with the Queen and my sisters gazing up at Thor in wonder, while he chatted away with them – Loki’s expression became one of boredom. He tapped his foot on the stone floor and, when I could not take my eyes away from him, he scowled at me.

“Was your journey fair my lord?” I asked, attempting conversation, though envying how my sisters were now talking merrily away with Thor. Loki sighed impatiently and quickened his walking pace, I ran to keep up, trying to not step on my dress. I felt rather irritated, this was not how a betrothed was meant to treat his lady. From all the stories Gefion insisted we read, I had plenty of information on how a Lord was meant to treat his Lady. Considering how much I liked my new dress and how everyone said I looked well in it, he should really have commented on my appearance. I gritted my teeth and remembered my mother’s advice, that some men were a little more nervous about these things than others. Loki showed no sign of nervousness, but perhaps he kept it well hidden. I would try complimenting him, I decided.

“I like your tunic, sir.” I said.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Tell me, do you plan on matching our clothes from this moment onwards? Or will you still insist on making such awful attempts at conversation?” I nearly tripped on the hem of my skirt, my cheeks now flaming red and saw his little smirk.

“No, sir.” I muttered, lowering my head and glancing at him through my eyelashes.

* * *

“Loki.” Odin called from the end of the table. Loki looked up, his hand resting on the wineglass, his other spinning the knife on the table.

“Yes, father?”

“Talk to the damn girl.”

I was almost certain this was proving to be the worse evening of my life, I did not even wish to think on my future wedding day. Loki’s jaw clenched and he swallowed the rest of his wine.

“Yes, father.” he growled and beckoned the serving girl over to pour more wine in his cup. Frigga gave a minute shake of her head at him, but he seemed to pay no attention to them. I pick at my plate of food, not wanting to look at him. I’m scared, it is as though I am screaming inside, battling with my mind. I feel so scared of how I feel. I like looking at him, I like the way his cheek is pale and smooth. I keep feeling tempted to reach out and touch it, but I remind myself that is folly.

“So, what do you like doing, Sigyn?” he is acting out of politeness, but Loki does not even bother to hide his tone of scorn.

“Reading, sewing, I sometimes like to paint as well…” I am not even at the end of my list, before he gives an irritable sigh and drinks heavily from his glass. “I like horse riding too, I have a beautiful horse called Sindri. Perhaps, you like to ride and we could go riding together?” I suggest and for once Loki smiles, though there is still a sense of a hidden jest at my expense.

“Yes, we should _ride_ together.”

“What do you like doing, sir?”

“A good many things that would not interest you.”

“But I am interested,” I exclaim, “I will be your wife someday and it is a wife’s duty to take interest in all her husband has done and to support him with his endeavours.”

Loki smirks, “ _On Wifely Duties and Her Hearthstone_? Yes, I read that book and…well, I say read, I got to the third page and put it down out of fear of losing all good sense in my mind. Do you actually believe such rubbish?” I sat dumbstruck for a moment, while Loki poured more wine into my own goblet, even though I had barely drunk any at all.

“Don’t you want a wife who does her duty to you and is loyal?” I ask.

Loki drummed his fingers on the table, “Ah little Sigyn, that is part of the problem. You see, I don’t believe I want a wife at all.”

* * *

“So do you think he is an Other?” Avedis whispered eagerly from our bed, I was still brushing my hair, my face reflected back to me in all my confusion.

“What’s an Other?” I asked.

“He likes men.” Avedis said as though this was obvious.

“No.” I said staunchly. I considered it for a moment, but Loki did not feel as though he would prefer male company to female…in truth it felt as though he would prefer nobody’s company, though he desired to be seen as great as his brother.

“Well let’s not talk about Loki, he’s boring and much less handsome than Thor.” she wiggled happily down into the bed, stretching her arms above her head, “I wish I was marrying Thor.”

“Loki’s handsome.” I say. He had slowly began to talk a little more with me as the evening progressed, especially as I had decided not to bring up _On Wifely Duties_ again, though I still did not believe we had much in common. He agreed to a ride tomorrow though. I liked his eyes, when we spoke of other books they had shone brightly.

“No he’s not.”

“Yes he is.” I said, “What do you know about it? You’re only ten.”

“I know Loki isn’t handsome, he’s not brave or strong like Thor.”

“Well that doesn’t matter to me.” I say smugly, “Besides, if anything should happen to Thor, Loki would be next in line to the throne…and I…I would be his queen.”

Avedis lets out a little gasp, “You can’t say something like that.”

“Like what?”

“Wishing ill fate on Odin and Thor.”

I try to roll my eyes like Loki, but he seems to have it well practiced and I do not, “I am not ill wishing them. I’m just saying.”

* * *

“Don’t you think they should have a guard with them?” my mother says, looking towards my father as Loki pulls on his gloves.

“We are only going for a short ride, my lady.” Loki says.

“They are betrothed, Loki knows the consequences should he try anything against your daughter.” Odin says, taking my mother’s hand comfortingly in his own.

Loki bares sharp, white teeth, “Of course, my lord. I’ll bring her back in one piece.”

I keep my attention focused on Sindri’s bridle and reins, checking the girth and the stirrups before I mount. He does not offer to help me up and makes no attempt to wait for me, squeezing his legs against the bay horse’s side and going into a light trot towards the gateway. I quickly bid goodbye to my parents and the King and Queen, before riding after him.


	2. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So guess who saw Thor 2? :D It was awesome and there were lots of bits that inspired the writing I'm doing for this (I loved the scenes between Loki and Frigga and Loki and Thor), but I'm not going to copy things word for word or stick religiously to the film story - I mean, it's not even mentioned Loki has a wife in any of the three films. Thank you again for reading and please do review :) xx

I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. I had liked the peach gown detailed with white flowers and golden stems, a silk cape around my shoulders with the same pattern of golden flowers. But now I feel too hot and tired. The corset digs into my ribs underneath and I only pick at my dinner. The gold jewellery around my legs and arms makes them ache. My hair tied up in its intricate up do, and the spiked diadem with emerald stones as large as my thumb nail, makes my head ache. I'm tired from dancing with near every man in the hall and the small slippers on my feet pinch my toes. Loki has barely spoken one word to me, now and then he laughs at something a friend or his brother says, but he doesn't spare me a glance.

The musicians begin a lively drinking song, concerning Thor getting wildly drunk and making several ludicrous claims. Thor and his friends soon begin bellowing the chorus. 'Who's the fool now? Tell me who's the fool now? Fill thou the cup and I the can. Who's the fool now?' For once I feel my husband's irritation at how all events seems to magically revolve around my new brother, Thor. This should be my day and Loki's, they should be praising my husband's intelligence and my grace. Instead we celebrate Thor getting so into his cups he swears he has seen a mouse chase a cat and a maid milk a bull! I look down at my husband's clenched fist on the table, as his brother charmingly grins at his companions and my handmaidens. I cautiously place my hand near Loki's, carefully brushing the back of my hand against his. He almost jolts from his seat and overwhelming shame rushes up to my cheeks, as he gives me a look suggesting I did far worse than touch his hand.

"I am sorry, husband." I murmur.

Loki brushes a hand over his face and then rubs his forehead. "Get you to bed, wife." he says through clench teeth, not looking at me.

I realise this day isn't about me either; despite the fine clothes, the best wine, mead and ale, the smiles on everyone else's faces, this was never about me. I lower my head and stare down at my now folded hands.   
  
"Sigyn?" he rarely ever says my name and normally it is with a tone of distaste, but his voice seems to soften a little. I glance up at him.

"Go to bed, they will drink for a long time after this and I'd rather you didn't see it."

I nod and rise to my feet, pushing back my chair, so I can bid him a proper goodnight. "Goodnight, husband." I curtsey and I almost see a smile flicker at the corner of his lips. I turn to go, but he swiftly grabs my hand and places a cool kiss against my skin. I shiver, but not from the coolness of his mouth or the cold air between us; I long to cup his face in my hands, to feel the smoothness of his cheek, the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. But a loud cry of appreciation and several bawdy comments makes me quickly pull my hand away.

* * *

"Sigyn, where are you going?" my father glowers down at me, his hand tightens on my arm.

"Loki has told me to depart to bed, I'm obeying my husband."

My father frowns, his lips purse sullenly. "You should remain sitting with him."

"How can I disobey my own husband like that?" I ask. I am confused whether to obey my husband or father.

"Are you sure that is what he meant?"

"Yes, he said everyone would get very drunk and he did not want me to witness such a thing."

I see the pulse in my father's neck, a clear sign he is very angry with me, "Get back to his side, a few drunken louts at a wedding is not a surprise."

"No." I pull my arm away from his grip, even though my flesh burns afterwards, he makes a step towards me and I quickly say, "My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education. You are the lord of duty. I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband. And so much duty as my mother showed to you, preferring you before her father." I have quoted that from somewhere, but I cannot remember where from. Though I do not believe it is from On Wifely Duties. However, it makes my father stop and he smiles at me.

"Very well, get you to bed. I'll send your handmaidens to attend to you."

* * *

My nightgown was a gift from my mother, it is a similar design to my wedding dress, only the flowers are now softest lilac with pale yellow stems and leaves.

"You look very beautiful, my lady." Tyri, my handmaiden, says. I think how ironic it is that only the women of my family have told me I look beautiful, my father just gave his usual shrug when he saw me. Though I suppose Odin did comment on how I was a woman now and Thor said I looked very charming when he danced with me. But that is Thor, he has probably told that to every women he danced with tonight. When I think about it, there is only one man I would really like to tell me I am beautiful. Yet I doubt he ever will say so.

"Could you ask my husband when he will come to bed?" I ask. I hear Magnhild stifle a giggle as she folds my clothes and places them in the chest at the foot of the large bed. I feel faintly ill looking at the velvet green covers, the dark wood and white sheets, so I turn back to my mirror, where Tyri is slowly taking off the emerald circlet laced tightly in my hair.

"You can go Magnhild and ask him." I scowl, I don't bother turning when I hear her muttered 'Yes, my lady.' My plaits are undone, Tyri gently combing out the tangles from the evening. When I see her kindly expression I suddenly feel overwhelmingly scared and burst into tears.

"My lady?" she says and crouches by my side.

"I'm fine…I'm fine." I gasp.

"Don't be scared, there's nothing to be scared of." She's lying, I can tell she's lying. All the gods are scared of Loki; they mock him and ridicule him, oh yes, but they're all scared of him. As though he will snap any minute and slit their throats. I've never been scared, I've been curious and careful, but I have no fear of him.

"It will only hurt for a little and if you ask him to be gentle he will." I sniff and pull the cloth from the bowl of water on the table, wiping away my tears and pressing it against my eyes. It will do me no favours if mother or father visit me now and see I have been crying. Or if Loki comes to me now, he will scorn me.

"He is your husband, he will protect you."

I nod miserably, "I will protect him."

"Of course you will." Tyri says comfortingly, continuing with the brushing of my hair. "Loki is an intelligent man and he's not as tall and broad as Thor, now that's something you could be nervous about."

I want to say that I think Loki doesn't have to be tall or broad if he wanted to frighten me, he could easily frighten me. When he said he wished to try something and pulled me behind the trees, our horses tied to the lower branches on the tree, he should have frightened me. When he whispered how he would be the first man to kiss me and to bed me, a gleam of sweet possession glinting in his eyes, he should have frightened me. But after the first kiss took me by surprise, I desired another. I wanted to try it again, it was too quick and eager the first time. There have been plenty of times when he should've scared me, but he didn't. My whole body seems to welcome him. I want him and I think that is what scares me and I'm also scared he doesn't want me, that it won't matter to him when he is with me. Tyri leads me over to the bed, pulls back the covers and steps back to let me into the bed.

"Don't fret, my lady. He'll bring you your wedding gift when he comes to bed." Tyri says, as though that should comfort me by some means. But it doesn't. Magnhild walks back to my chambers, a look of disgruntlement on her usual pretty features.

"Lord Loki says he will be here soon." she mutters.

"How soon is soon?" I ask.

"That's what I said, my lady. But he told me to run along and give you that message." she tosses her golden hair back and glares at me, as though I had told her that.

"Go back, Magnhild, and ask again." Tyri says, Magnhild opens her mouth to disagree, but I raise a hand.

"It is fine, Tyri. Do not bother my husband. Goodnight, Tyri, Magnhild." They both curtsey low to me and leave, I hear Tyri complaining at Magnhild for not paying me the right respect, but Magnhild's voice fades as she walks down the hallway. I curl up underneath the vast ivy green cover and try not to feel like a child who's been sent to bed, while the feast downstairs continues.


	3. Completion

I wake with a start, the blankets still covering my body, but underneath my nightgown is wrapped uncomfortably around my legs. My throat feels dry, so I sit up to pour some water from the jug by my bed. As I reach out towards it, I see a large shadow cast by the chair and someone sitting in it, by the fire. My hands lingers in mid-air as the shadow shifts and stretches. I slip out of the bed and pull my cloak on, then creep towards the chair. It must be very late, for the sky is near pitch black outside and there are no sounds of feasting and drinking coming from the hall. I nervously edge round the chair. Loki sits there, gazing moodily into the fire, face resting on his hand. His eyes glance up towards me, but he says nothing. I bite my lip and then feeling a little braver sit by his legs, my long red hair brushing his thighs.  
“You should not be sitting here, husband.” I clear my throat, nerves binding my tongue, “You should come to bed and…and stake your claim.”  
He gives a long, breathy sigh and then, surprisingly, a soft chuckle, “On Wifely Duties, again?”  
“Sorry,” I mutter, “I didn’t know how else to say it.”

His hand twirls a strand of my hair around a finger, then brushes through my curls. I feel that warm, irresistible shiver again and wish he would continue brushing my hair with his fingers, rubbing my scalp with his hands. I smile when I wonder whether a cat feels like this. His hand carefully strokes down to my face, tenderly touching my forehead, before hastily going back to his lap.  
“Do I…do I need to get naked?” I say.  
“I fail to see how else we are going to do this, wife.” he says, smirking.  
“You weren’t really trying.”  
He shrugs, “I told you from the beginning, I wasn’t sure about this. I didn’t want to marry.”  
“Then why did you kiss me?” I ask. I feel him stiffen behind me. He says nothing, then gets up so abruptly I nearly fall backwards. Loki doesn’t pay any attention to me, just moves towards the bed and pulls off his nightshirt. I watch the pale leanness of his back, sinewy strength evident in the muscles. I finally get up and go to the other side of the bed, waiting for him.

Neither of us move from where we are sitting up in the bed, I am too nervous to touch him. I can feel his eyes upon me, every so often they flick to me and then back to the cover, bunching under his tight grasp. The silence becomes intolerable and I turn my head to look at him, dark hair messy where he ran his hands through it, his chest firm and lean and urging me to touch it. He turns his head, cold ice eyes burning into my skin. I quickly take his hand, not wanting to dwell on it too much, just feeling his cool palm against my warm one. He runs a thumb along my knuckles.  
“I don’t want to like you.” he says, his grip on my hand tightening. “I want to hurt you.”  
I feel my hand shake in his grasp, and though my voice is quiet, I still speak with confidence when I say, “You won’t hurt me.”  
He pushes my hand away and snorts with contempt, rolling to one side and pulling off his breeches, “And how do you know that?”  
I look away from him, “I just do. You will do your duty to me, as I will do my duty to you.”  
He turns back to face me and I studiously avoid looking downwards, where the blanket is hitched over his leg. I keep my eyes level with his and he smiles once again.  
“Interesting.” He murmurs, cupping my face with his hand.

“Oh I nearly forgot.” I say, springing up from the bed and running to my jewellery box. I unlock it and bring out Loki’s wedding gift. A dark, black blade carved from fire ice, with the handle in the shape of a dragon. The leather is black and traced with gold. I give it to him and he removes the knife from the sheath.  
“It’s an old knife, from my family. ” I explain quickly, “But the blade has always been sharp and it is to show my loyalty to you. My family’s loyalty and strength…and the dragon reminded me of you.”  
Loki smiles, carefully balancing the knife in his hand, “It’s a good weight and well crafted.” He presses the knife against his forefinger and a dew drop of blood wells up, he smiles and puts his finger into his mouth; bright eyes keeping level with mine. Loki pushes the knife back into his sheath and places it by the bed, then gets up. He confidently strolls across the room, no sheet or robe to hide his modesty…though Loki seems to have very little modesty, I think dryly! He picks up his cloak and then reaches into one of the pockets. I avert my eyes when he turns.  
“Wife…” he says teasingly, but I do not look up. Loki walks back to the bed again and kneels nearby me. “This is for you.”  
He places it on my lap and I carefully pick it up, the smoothly beaten gold band forming a torc. On one end the head of a snake glitters with an emerald eye, at the other a tale twists and bends close to the serpent’s mouth.  
“Here.” He gestures for me to give the torc to him and then pulls the clasp open, fastening it around my neck. The cold metal touches my skin and I shiver. He smirks as his hands linger on my neck, then dip down to follow the neckline of the gown, the small curve of my breasts. His fingers briefly slide past my nipples, they harden under the light traces of his fingers.

“Go to the mirror, see yourself with it on.” He suggests.  
I get up and walk to the mirror, my reflection looming out of shadows. In the mirror the heavy gold band around my neck is carved in such a way, that the snake looks as though it is eating its own tail. I slowly brush my fingers over the torc, the metal already warming to my flesh. I hear a rustle of sheets and Loki steps up behind me, I dare not turn, he still has not pulled a robe on around him. My face is flushed when I feel him press himself against me, my whole body tensing as he presses his legs into mine and wraps a strong arm around my waist. He smiles, brushing my arm with his fingertips, before fiddling with the straps of my gown. I try to help him, my fingers shaking as I undo the other one, but he wrenches my hand away and goes back to the bed. I turn to watch him. He picks up the knife and even now I do not feel any terror.   
The cold blade presses against my back, I dare not move in case it scars my flesh. It slides under the straps of the gown and then cuts them loose, my breathe is held in my lungs, anticipation flooding my body. My hands instantly cross over my chest, covering myself and Loki turns me around, his eyes taking everything in about me. He flings the knife onto the table and pulls my arms away. Cold wind blows into my room and the curtains lift in the breeze. I nervously take a step forward and, keeping my eyes upon his, I press myself into his chest. He seems bemused by this for a moment, then twists my plait around his hand before pulling the ribbon from my hair, so it cascades down my back. He scoops his hands under my head and into my hair, lifting my face up for a kiss. I cling onto him when he kisses me, tasting something sweeter than I could have ever dreamt of, it is even better than before. His hands dig painfully into my scalp and he pulls back, eyes close, mouth trembling a little.  
“I want to hate you.”  
“But you don’t.” I whisper, gently touching his lips, hearing his sharp intake of breath, before he pulls me onto the bed and roughly pushes my legs apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for commenting and leaving kudos :) Pollka finally got me posting again, so I hope you all enjoy this update. More to come!


	4. Cooperation

My thighs ache dully and even now it still stings a little. I savour the feeling. I am a true woman now, bled, wedded and bedded. His back is facing me, one arm tucked underneath his head, hair tousled. I slink closer under the warm bedding and put my arm around his waist. I relish in the knowledge that he is mine, that I may call him husband. His back is smooth and pale, yet here and there are lingering scars from battles he has not made mention to me, small white scratches against his back. I carefully trace them with a finger, he grunts and pulls away from my hand. I wriggle closer again, but am careful not to touch him.

“Lady Sigyn?”  
I open my eyes, Tyri is shaking me awake, holding a rich velvet, red robe in her hands. She averts her gaze when I get up from the bed and she wraps the robe quickly around me. I glance over to the other side of the bed, but it is empty. I can’t help but feel disappointed that my husband woke and did not think to wake me, but I shake my head and stand like a lady. I have already accepted he will never whisper sweet words to me. I do not even know if he likes me, or if I am simply just some new novelty, a piece of artwork in a room that he will eventually not even realise is there. Servants move quickly around our bedroom, removing a canter of wedding ale and a plate full of honey cakes. Neither of us were hungry last night.   
“I have to take the sheet.” Tyri says softly and I step away from the bed. She pulls back the covers and expertly removes the sheet underneath, a smear of dried blood staining it where I slept.  
“Magnhild has prepared you a bath and afterwards your mother and father would like to speak to you.”  
I nod and then Tyri ushers all the servants out, quietly closing the door behind her, while I step towards my bathing chamber. When I open the wooden door a warm roll of air slips out into my bedroom, the steam smelling of lavender and rosemary. I breathe in deeply, my muscles urging me to sink into warm water and forget everything for now.

I keep trying to look at my mother and father, but I can’t help looking at the sheet spread out over the table. Evidence of every small private moment we shared last night, though I found it uncomfortable and awkward for us both. I liked him kissing me though, it says in On Wifely Duties, that wives must bear childrearing and the begetting of children with great suffering and pride; I forgot myself entirely when he was kissing my neck and very gently nipping behind my ear, I couldn’t help it when I gasped and pressed my hips into his. It only hurt for a little while and I enjoyed the rest of it, though I know such a though is scandalous. I blush and swiftly look down at my feet. Not wanting to look at my parents or the sheet in front of us.  
“So he had you?” my father asks again.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Was he kind to you? Was he gentle?” my mother asks.  
“Yes.”  
I had been more than surprised when he showed some patience with me and a little of his own self-control. I knew he had been kind with me.  
“He left you in the morning.” Father scowls.  
I nod, not knowing what to reply with. Father sighs irritably, then folds the sheet and nods for me to go. I curtsey and walk out from his study, wondering how on earth I could displease him, when I had done my duty.

“Good morning, sister.” Thor greets me when I enter the great hall and gestures for me to sit beside him. I look around for Loki, but he is nowhere in sight and I am unsure whether asking for him would make me look needy and foolish. Whether he notices the slight falter in my footsteps or the confusion on my face, he makes no comment about it. I sit beside him and put some fruits and bread on my plate, but make very little attempt to eat it. After I begin to roll a grape around between my thumb and forefinger, Thor pushes the plate towards me.  
“Eat, you’ll need your strength.”  
“I’m not going into battle.” I sigh, pushing the plate away again. Thor pulls it back and gives me a look suggesting it is unwise to argue with him.  
“You’ve married Loki, that’s a battle enough.” he jests. “I’ll find him, he should be here with you.”  
Thor gets up from the bench and makes his way out of the hall, I watch him go, before turning back to my plate of untouched food. 

The hall is quiet, everyone has gone outside and the servants are still busy cleaning up messy bedrooms and the kitchens. The back of my neck prickles and I know he is here; whether he has been here this entire time or has only now just turned up, I do not know. I cannot hear the sound of his feet, but when I feel him approaching me I turn round. I blink, there is no one there, yet I know he is there. He has stopped moving. Something has caught his interest, maybe because no one ever felt he was there.  
“Loki?” I whisper.  
There is no reply and all at once the sensation is gone, he is no longer there. Something like an ache burns deep inside of me. I want to run and find him, beg him not to leave again. See those pale eyes that I trusted and yet did not trust from the very beginning. I get up from the stool, but then sit back down again. I bite into an apple. He does not want me.

Mother is weeping when I say goodbye to her, she constantly wipes away her tears and holds me close to her, kissing me and making me promise I will write to her. Avedis and Gefion both hug me and say they will miss me, though I think Avedis is looking forward to being the oldest now. Father said very little to me, but he kissed my forehead and said he was proud of me. He even helped me mount my horse. Then he went to Odin and knelt before him.  
“I have given you my daughter, my sword and my loyalty. I would beg of you, Odin King, and your son Loki Odinson, to protect and guide her, as I will protect and guide you.”  
Odin smiles, “Although this is a ritual and well said, you would never have to ask me such a thing. However, I do so swear it to you, Sigurd. I will protect your daughter and honour your fealty. Your daughter must pay obedience to me and her husband.”  
“I do so swear it, Odin King.”  
Odin smiles broadly, “Good. Now, let us ride.”  
The company laughs and I urge Sindri into a light trot, following everyone through the gate. I turn around in my saddle though, so I can see my family one last time, everyone I have grown up with and my family home. This is the last time I will see it.

 

“These will be your rooms, though of course they are connected by a passageway that leads from his room to yours.” Frigga says to me, showing me around my new chambers. I have my privy chamber and then one beyond that, where I may sit with my handmaidens and entertain myself. Tyri was the only handmaiden from my home allowed to come with me, but I don’t mind that, I know Tyri will be loyal to me and I need a friend in this place. I watch the servants move around us, putting my clothes in a chest, my jewellery in a small box on the table. I even have a desk, the dark wood polished till it shone like beaten bronze. My books are either placed on the desk or on the bookshelves. The rooms themselves are light and airy, but it is clear they partly belong to my husband, as well as myself; the small cushions, bed spread and hangings are all green in colour, sometimes with patterns and details sewn with gold or silver thread. The windows open onto balconies, where a strong breeze rushes through the room and makes the ghost white curtains dance.

“Do you like them?” Frigga says, “I designed them myself, though Loki also assisted with the designs.”  
“Loki did this for me?” I asked.  
Frigga smiles gently, “He will want you to be seen as a princess of Asgard, therefore, you must have the rooms to match. Your clothing too.”  
I frown in puzzlement, “My mother has given me two new dresses.” Not including my betrothal dress, my wedding dress and the nightgown – Magnhild gave me an accusatory look when it was given to her to repair – and there’s nothing wrong with my other clothes. Frigga puts an unruly curl behind my ear.  
“Some of your dresses are fitting enough, but it won’t harm to have a few more.”  
“How many is a few?” I ask.  
“Well at least four for court appearances and another one to match Loki’s best outfit. The rest of your gowns are fitting for everyday use.”  
I blush, some of my dresses I picked are my best ones at home. The women wear their hair differently here too, now I feel my dress is unflattering, and childish with my hair swept down my back.  
“Don’t worry Sigyn, you’ll look beautiful.”  
“Thank you, Lady-mother.” I say, giving a curtsey. She smiles.  
“Yes, I think this was a match well made.” she murmurs as she goes towards the window, looking out on the view of Asgard, tall towers and walls rising into the air, the buildings shining like copper.

“Mother, could I speak with Sigyn?” Loki says, he walked into my chamber, removing his gloves and a determined look glinting in his eyes.  
“Of course.” Frigga smiles and goes to leave. Loki’s eyes snap to the servants still bringing in my possessions and organising the room.  
“Alone.” He hisses. Only Tyri looks somewhat confused as all the other servants quickly drop what they are doing and leave the room, but she obeys after giving him and me a curtsey. Loki takes no notice of them, keeping his eyes completely focused on me. His gaze feels stifling and I lower my eyes. But he cups my face and brings my gaze level with his again.  
“What are you?” he says.  
“What am I?” I repeat, bewildered, “Sigyn, my lord. Daughter of Sigurd, wife to you.”  
A low whine of frustration slips between his lips, he pulls me close, his mouth finding mine and biting down on my lower lip. It stings a little, but I find myself wanting it. After he has tired of kissing and biting me, he turns me round and pushes me hard against a pillar; his teeth instantly seizing the skin behind my ear and make me moan. His hips press into me and I wriggle against him so I have a little more space, he gives a throaty groan and I can feel him grow harder. His hands grip painfully on my breasts and urge my nipples to harden under his fingers. I find myself gasping for air, trying to hold myself up with the pillar.

“You wear too many clothes.” He rasps against my neck and I can feel his whole body, once clothed in the cool, hard leather, now bare against my skin and the silk of my dress. I push away from the column, the cold stone making me shiver. He near pulls me round, flings me down against the daybed, almost tearing my gown to get the material over my legs and then…Oh gods, I murmur. He breathes heavily against my cheek, barely moving, even when I shift my legs up around him to pull him in deeper. Loki’s eyes are closed as though he is concentrating ferociously hard on something. I reach up tentatively and softly stroke his pale cheek, his eyes snapping open the moment my fingers graze against his cheek and then thrusting hard inside of me. My eyes roll back at the hot, delicious pain. But even when his pace quickens, his hand reaches down and finds the little bundle of nerves, making me cry out and lick and bite and scratch at his chest. I have a vague sense of how mother would be ashamed of me, to see me acting so and I wonder what the Queen would think of me. But he is bringing me closer and closer, so I can barely think. My toes curl tightly on the day bed, my body spasming against his, feeling him even more and holding him closer to me. His mouth covers my scream.

He lies on me for some time and then gets up, his clothes appearing again and running his hands through his hair. Loki glances down at me, my legs still apart, my cheeks and neck flushed, hair messy against the cushions. He helps me up, but avoids my eye as though he did something shameful. I long to reach out and touch him, to tell him he has full right to take me, I am his wife. But he merely stretches and bids me good day quickly. I go to my mirror, to brush back my hair and arrange my gown, but it is already done. My hair neatly held behind my hair with the shell-like clasps, my blue gown belted and hanging neatly down my body, with no creases or lines. It is only my lips that give away anything we had done, bitten to redness and a little swollen. I run a cool finger over my lips, shivering with pleasure as I remember everything he had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, there's really no excuse as I already had this written. I was just overwhelmed with work and life, so lacked all motivation to post it. Sorry, sorry, sorry! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.


	5. Revelation

It was always rough, rarely tender, though Loki was always careful if he caused me true pain. Then there were times when I was often left alone in my chambers. Well, I had my handmaidens; little pretty doves in scraps of silk or satin, sewing with heads bent down, snide smiles on their lips, so eager to gossip and whisper as soon as Loki remembered me and came into my chambers. Tyri often grew frustrated with their city manners and superiority, but even she had to quickly vanish when Loki graced me with a visit. My handmaidens would share ‘hidden’ looks, put down their embroidery and slink out of the room. Loki never seemed to notice; he was always too busy stripping away my dress and claiming me on any nearby surface, to hear my worries of my handmaidens lingering by the doors to listen and titter. The daybed we often used, but also my chair, the table – scattering aside ribbons, lace and the odd book – even the walls, he would hold my legs under his arms and make me lose all sense of any lesson I had been taught, ladylike dignity all but gone when he claimed me.

He didn’t hate me, I could tell that much, but he didn’t like me either. I rarely saw him at dinner and I did not think it prudent to go hunting for him. But it was as though when we saw one another we could barely resist touching one another. I always wanted him to stay with me when we were both sated, but he often seemed distracted. He would always get up first, fix his clothing, help me to my feet and then leave me; his face clouded with an emotion I could not read. Trouble and barely contained anger was the nearest thing to it. Few words were spoken. I had heard him speak to Thor’s friends, who although nice, scared me a little. Loki was eloquent and clever, words slipping from his tongue like quicksilver. I lingered by the staircase, hidden by vast columns, listening to him speak, drowning in his words. He had a poet’s tongue, shaping words to his bidding, sending shivers down my spine and making me smile. That was my husband. My clever, brilliant husband. He would probably hate me if he knew I had thought such a thing.

The first six months of my marriage passed peacefully enough, but it was always whispered how Thor would become King soon and how Odin planned to give up the throne, in favour of his oldest son. I always bit my tongue when the subject was brought up, but I couldn’t help thinking how I felt Thor wasn’t ready for such a responsibility. As much as I liked my brother and even though he was often kind to me, he would surprise me with his sheer cock-sure arrogance and boastfulness. I now understood why the drinking song featured him swearing he had seen the man in the moon and how he had seen a hare running in the air. At quieter, private dinners – which were a rarity in themselves and I felt a constant sense of sharp, sweet desire running through me, while Loki deliberately avoided looking at me – if the subject was brought up, I felt certain Odin would instruct his oldest son to consider the duties placed in front of him and to learn by Odin’s side. He never did, it seemed rare for either Odin or Frigga to criticise Thor; even if Frigga seemed fonder of Loki and Odin always appeared to grow bored whenever Loki spoke. I hope I would not have such a divide between my children. However, with the impending ceremony it meant my family would visit the main city and I would get to see my parents again.

 

“Sigyn!” my mother cried delightedly, taking me into her arms, “My goodness you’ve grown.”  
I giggle.  
“She’s only been away for six months, woman.” My father says, placing his large hand on my shoulder. For once he smiles at me, “Though you are truly growing into womanhood.”  
“Thank you, father. I am so glad to see you both, I have missed you.”  
Father nods, but he then looks away from me and his face clouds, “Where is your husband and the King?”  
“Oh my Lady-Mother thought it would be better for you to see me first and then dine with everyone else later. Loki and Thor are away anyway, they will be back later.”  
Father scowls, but my mother smiles and puts her arm in mine.  
“It was not meant as an insult, my love.” she says to father.  
Father makes a non-committed sound, but he pats me on my back and seems genuinely please to see me.  
“Very well, lead the way, great Lady.”  
I grin at my father’s respectful addresses and then guide them inside, showing them to their chambers and going off to allow them to refresh themselves from their journey.

Loki is polite and charming to my family at dinner, though he still does not speak very often to me. Father seems impressed with his knowledge and he even dismisses Thor’s desire to speak on war.  
“A man can do too much warring in his lifetime and forget what life is. I know what my duty is, Thor, but forgive me if I do not wish to speak on war at this table.”  
Odin laughs broadly, “Sigurd, my friend, peace has made you soft.”  
My father shrugs, “If it is your desire to go back to the days when no woman or child was safe; when women were ravaged to death by the frost giants, their insides burning and bleeding and children were torn limb by limb. Then be my guest, let us speak of the glories of war.”  
Even Thor pales considerably at hearing that, Frigga begs her excuses and leaves the table, my mother surreptitiously takes father’s hand into her own. He looks downward at his plate and I see his grip tighten on my mother’s hand. I feel my empty hand resting on the chair rest filled by another and glance up at Loki. His cool, long fingered hand is clasped around my own. His gaze catches my own.  
“I am sure what father said was meant in jest.” Thor says.  
Father takes a sip of his mead, “War is no jest and I shall not be excused for thinking so.”  
“Easy friend, you take things too seriously.” Odin says.  
“I do not see how such a matter can be taken lightly.” Loki murmurs and his father scowls furiously at him, as though Loki should have no opinion on such a thing. I squeeze his hand tighter.

Another night past and he was getting up, readying himself to leave me, as he always did. But as I lay in the bed, sweat cooling on my body and making me pull the covers up over my shoulders; he spoke to me from the doorway.  
“If I asked you to leave me, would you?”  
I sat up thinking he meant he did not wish to be married to me anymore. Loki raised his hand.  
“Nay, I did not mean for you to stop being my wife.” he muttered, “But if there was a situation where I asked you to leave, would you?”  
I stayed silent, hugging the sheets around me. I did not know what to say, I was called the Lady of Fidelity, but it was a case of remaining loyal to him or loyal to his wishes.  
“It depends on the situation.” I finally said.  
Loki nodded, “If it meant you were safe and I had good reason for sending you away?”  
“Then I would go.” I said. He looked thoughtful, then turned back towards the door, “But I would come back.”  
I could almost hear his smirk, “Of course you would.”  
“Can I ask you a question?”  
He looked puzzled when he faced me, but nodded his ascent.  
“Why were you so kind to me today?”  
Loki smiled, teeth gleaming in the semi-darkness, “Because I know your mind, you think Thor would not make a good King and it is true, he would not. He is too brash, too quick to anger, he does not bide his time. Also, my father and brother insulted your father in their lust for war.”  
“Thank you.” I said and Loki laughed.  
“For what?”  
“For defending my father and comforting me.”  
He snorted at that, “I expect my comfort is marvellous much, wife. Goodnight.”  
Loki marched from the room before I could even open my mouth to say, “You do comfort me, won’t you stay?” Instead I sighed into the empty, pitch black room and lay down where he had briefly lain his own head.

 

I finished the elaborate plaits and pinned them into place on Frigga’s head. She smiled at me in the mirror.  
“Lovely, Sigyn, you are getting very adept at our styles.”  
“Thank you, Lady-Mother.”  
Frigga patted her head, rose from the chair and linked my arm with hers.  
“Now. Are you happy here? You do not miss your home?”  
“I am quite happy, Lady-Mother. I miss my home a little, but that is to be expected.”  
“Good. And Loki is kind to you? He is gentle?” her words implied with the same tone my mother had used on the night after my wedding. I blushed in thinking the gossip about our bedding had reached her ears. But she gave me a comforting smile.  
“Loki is a good husband to me…He just…he…” I could not complete my sentences.  
“Well as long as he does not hurt you in anyway, dear heart. But you can always speak confidentially to me about such things and I will discuss it with him.”  
“That is not necessary, Lady-Mother.” I said quickly.  
“I am sure it is not, but it is good for you to know.”  
“I thank you for your kindness and concern, but Loki would never hurt me.” I feel my confidence in him will make Frigga realise there is no need to be worried, but she frowns at me slightly.

“I love Loki as my son, but I know sometimes he cannot think of the needs of others. You must tell me if you feel neglected.”  
I nod and we make our way to the hall, the Queen and princess of Asgard side by side.  
I was not aware I had stand in a particular place. People began to crowd the hall and I saw my husband standing half way up the steps leading towards the throne. I began to walk towards him but Frigga grasped my sleeve.  
“No dear.”  
“Should I not be with my husband?”  
“Nay, the steps are for the chosen warriors and blood family.”  
“You are not blood family.” I point out.  
“I had my sons, I am now true blooded to them. When you have your children you will stand by your husband and with great pride, for your sons will also stand on those steps.”  
‘And if I have girls?’ I think to myself, but she moves away in a flurry of golden skirts, her handmaidens now following her and edging around me. I feel frustrated that she acted so sweetly to me and then did not even mention that I was not considered of enough importance to stand next to my husband. I take a calming breath and turn towards Tyri.  
“I am not sure where we are meant to stand, my lady.” she says.  
“We will stand near the front, so my husband may see me and know I am proud of him.” I turn back to the stairs, but they are already being quickly filled with gods and goddesses, their servants following closely behind them. 

I gesture to my ladies to follow me and they do so, but even with my status and marriage I cannot get any closer to the stairs than the first two rows of people. I am not tall either, so I cannot see past the many heads of the other immortals and it is made worse by how many are wearing their formal helmets and headdresses. I watch as Frigga briefly speaks to Loki, who nods and then looks over the crowds trying to find me out. I stand on tiptoe in the hope he can see me, but his expression does not change and he turns back to the throne. I swallow past the lump forming in my throat and the childish tears in my eyes, I would be a great disappointment to my father if I let something like this upset me. I lick my lips and look downwards, calming myself for a moment, before a strong hand wraps around my arm and pulls me through the crowds. I look up to see my father, a determined and steely glint in his eye. He does not bother to look at me, but keeps his eyes trained on the royal family ahead. Once we reach the front line he lets go of my arm and turns to watch the steps.

“I am sorry, father.”  
But he shakes his head, “I am not angry at you.”  
“What?” I cannot help my surprise, but he is glaring up the steps at Odin. “Father…?”  
“You have been married into this household, it brings shame upon you that you do not stand upon those steps.”  
“I don’t mind.” I say.  
“Well I do, our family is older than Odin’s. We are descended from a race far older than the immortals and that you are here!” I hear him grind his teeth together.  
“Her grace says because I have not borne children, I cannot stand there.” I say.   
Father harrumphs, “An ancient law that means little and nothing.”  
“But mother said I was only part of their family once I had borne children…”  
“When your mother had yet to conceive you, I still had her standing by my side when we had guests. It is not a rule, more a convention and very few comply with it.”  
I shuffle my feet and look back up to my husband, trying to catch his attention, but his eyes skim past me.

“I will speak to Odin after this…” father says.  
“Father, please. It is an honour to be married into this family.”  
“Aye, and if this family wants our support in times of war and peace, I expect them to show you a little respect.”  
The ceremony is grand, the Gods and Goddesses cheer when they catch sight of Thor, and it ripples through the crowds. Thor wears his finest armour and his crimson cloak, I can barely see over the heads of the crowds and then the tall helms of the guards, but I can see him passing through the guardsmen and Mjölnir often raised aloft in the air. Being near to the front I can see the Warriors three smiling and Sif rolling her eyes good naturedly at Thor.  
“He shouldn’t be King.” I say, then blush and lower my eyes, when my father swiftly turns to face me. “I…Sorry, father.”  
He cups my chin to look up at him, “Nay, you are right. This is no behaviour for a King of Asgard. Now, it is your duty to look as fitting as that Queen up there, therefore smile and look like you own this place.”  
I raise my chin proudly and clap politely, but I do not whoop or cheer like the others. This time Loki’s eyes find mine and I see a small smirk flick to the corner of his lips, but it is gone before anyone else catches sight of it. I smile and continue to clap, Thor now kneeling by the steps, till the hall falls quiet and Odin begins to speak.

“…Frost giants.” Odin near whispers the words, but they are audible in the hall and suddenly there is a deep inhale of breath. Thor rises from his knee and soon he is joined by Odin, both marching down the hall quickly. Loki follows them, giving a quick look to my father, before quickening his pace to join his father and brother.  
“Sigyn, stay here. Do not follow us, whatever your heart says.”  
“Father…” I grab hold of his sleeve, “What is going on?”  
“Later.” he says and makes his way through the crowds, following Loki, Odin and Thor. The Queen beckons to me and I mount the steps to join her.  
“Take your handmaidens to your chambers, Sigyn.”  
“Yes, your grace. But…”  
“Do not argue with me, just do this now.” She commands and I feel I would never be able to compare to her as a queen. I curtsey and turn back to my handmaidens. The queen urges everyone back to their chambers and, as the crowd departs, I walk ahead with my maids; trying not to feel fear for my husband or my father.


End file.
